


Time Stands Still

by RiverBracken



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, The Iliad - Homer, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:42:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28999965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiverBracken/pseuds/RiverBracken
Summary: Patroclus is a journalist trying to get his big break by writing an exclusive piece on the politics of the little known country of Phthia.
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus (Song of Achilles), Helen of Troy/Paris (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Time Stands Still

Patroclus’ hair is salty. His skin is salty, and his body is heavy as he lets himself sink beneath the waves. The sea is too warm for him to take seriously, more like a bath. He bobs back up, eyes resting just above the surface. His gaze takes in the reflection of the sun turning the water golden; the far off lush green islands, covered in towering trees, and the colourful sails of small boats on the horizon. For a second everything was perfect. 

His phone ringing on the shore brought him back to reality. Briseis waved at him, trying unnecessarily to get his attention. Patroclus reluctantly waded back to the shore. They had only arrived in Phthia late the night before, and he hadn’t given anyone his local number. He covered himself quickly with a towel, and answered the unknown number. 

“Hello?”

“Hello Pat darling.” Odysseus drawled down the line. Patroclus was only mildly surprised to find that his editor had managed to track him down in less than 24 hours. Since he had first started working at The Mercury almost a year ago Odysseus had regularly shown up at his apartment uninvited despite Patroclus never giving his address to the man in question. He instantly popped up on all his social media accounts moments after Patroclus was hired, and Patroclus had recently found out that he regularly read his private email. This realisation had led to Patroclus’ current status as an undercover reporter at a friend of a friend’s wedding.  
“I hope you don’t expect me to have infiltrated the palace just yet.” Patroclus joked, secretly expecting that, yes, his editor would expect him to have done just that.

“I’d love to read your first impressions of the islands.” Odysseus replied dryly. “Send them through before the party tonight.” Again, Patroclus should be wondering how Odysseus knows about the pre-wedding gala tonight. “Have you found my little gift yet?” Odysseus continued. 

“What gift?” 

“Go into your room, you’ll see it soon enough.” Patroclus trudged up the sand into his beachside room. Briseis being a bridesmaid certainly had its perks, the best of which being a room that led straight to the beach, with a wooden veranda that reached out over the sand on little stilts. He didn’t feel the need to make small talk with Odysseus as he made his way to the room. Odysseus was clearly in the mood for the dramatic and Patroclus knew better than to get in the way of that. Pulling open the glass sliding door, he saw a suit-bag laying across the bed.

“I can dress myself.” He grumbled under his breath, opening the zipper carefully. 

“Not like this.” It seems Odysseus had heard him.

“I can’t wear that!” Patroclus stared down at the pink and gold monstrosity laying on the bed in from of him. 

“Of course you can.” Odysseus snorted. “We need you to make a statement at the party tonight, so that you can find an ‘in’, and you won’t do that hiding in the corner in your grubby little grey number with a boring maroon tie.”

“Hiding in the corner completely suits my plan.” Patroclus rebutted, getting quite annoyed. “The best way in is to talk to the staff. Cleaners, kitchen staff, taxi drivers – whoever!  
I wear this they will run a mile.” 

“Oh Pat, please don’t tell me you are going to engage in the cliché of interviewing taxi-drivers.” Odysseus scoffs “It is the oldest journalistic trick in the book, and it won’t get you what you want. If you really want to write a quality piece, exposing the insidious and incestuous ruling class of that sheltered little country, then you can’t just talk to minions. You need to catch the eye of the local elite or you won’t get anywhere.” Patroclus wanted to tell him that he was a patronising asshole, but unfortunately he suspected that Odysseus was right. So little was actually known about this strange little country, but there were plenty of rumours about President Thetis and the consequences for dissidents who spoke out against her. What chance would a taxi-driver have if she found out they had talked to an undercover journalist? There were always rumours of people mysteriously disappearing under Thetis’s regime. It would be a big risk for most ordinary people to talk. 

“Okay” Patroclus conceded “I’ll wear the damn suit, but I’ll look utterly ridiculous.”

“Good.” Odysseus replied “And don’t do your whole ‘shy little nerd’ shtick. Get out there. Talk, but not too much. Don’t make me regret sending you.”

“Understood.” 

“Good, and I expect an update tomorrow morning. Now go and get ready.”

“Yep, talk then.” Patroclus replied, hanging up before Odysseus could get the last word in. It was petty, but satisfying. 

“Was that your bastard of a boss?” Breseis asked, trying to brush the sand off herself. 

“Uhuh. He sent me this lovely suit to wear to the party tonight.” Patroclus held the baby pink suit up for Breseis to see.

“It might be okay if you don’t wear the gold shirt? Try it with white.” 

Patroclus shrugged “Maybe. Odysseus probably has hidden camera’s all over the room to check that I actually put it on.”

“He is insane. You need a better job.”

“I know, but this is my shot to finally get out of reporting on mindless gossip.” Patroclus had always been told by his English teachers that he was a great writer. Being a journalist has been his dream career; making a change in peoples’ lives by writing stories that matter. His father didn’t approve of course, but Patroclus had stuck with it, suffering through his fathers’ disappointment. The Mercury had been his first writing job since leaving university. He’d been thrilled at the beginning, thinking his celebrity gossip column would just be a temporary post until he proved himself to Odysseus, but two years later he was still writing about weight-gain and post-nups. The opportunity to write an in-depth piece on life in Phthia gave him the chance to show skills at writing about politics, power and society. The country was an enigma. Technically it was a democracy, but had been run by Thetis’ family for generations. No opposition party had ever been formed, so every election was uncontested. She was currently married to the countries Prime Minister, Peleus, with commentators assuming that their son Achilles would take over from Thetis when she eventually stepped down. It is nepotism of the highest order. The country had very few trading partners, and no free press, so daily life was a mystery to outsiders. It could be the story of Patroclus’ career if he played his cards right. Breseis beamed at him.   
“Well then, let’s make sure you have something to write about.”

A few hours later, and Patroclus found himself hiding in a corner watching a party unfold around him. He was in the damn pink suit Odysseus had given him and no matter how many times Bri told him that he looked great, he felt too conspicuous. He would really prefer to be hiding in the kitchen, but he couldn’t deny that watching the party was entertaining. Patroclus had been to very few weddings. His family was small, and his dad was an unpleasant man, which had seen them shut out of many family gatherings. Then at university Patroclus had isolated himself, pushing away anyone who had tried to get too close. The only place he had ever felt like he was free to be himself was at the small deli he worked at part time before he got his job at The Mercury. That was where he had met Briseis, and where they bonded over getting yelled at by pompous customers. He took a sip of his drink and scanned the crowd for her, finding her in the middle of the dance floor with the bride-to-be Helen. Briseis looked stunning in a dark green, off the shoulder dress. In fact, she looked far happier than Helen. Helen and Briseis had grown up together, before Helen went off to university and met her fiancé. Patroclus had heard all about their exploits growing up many times from Briseis, which had always made him a little jealous, not that he would ever tell Briseis. He’d met Helen a handful of times at parties and gatherings with Briseis, but was mainly here as her plus-one’. 

His gaze flicked across the room to a rowdy group by the bar. Patroclus recognises the groom’s brother, Agamemnon, as one of the group. Agamemnon is hard to miss with his hulking frame. Patroclus has had to write many gossip column pieces about the man’s love life. He comes from old money, which apparently means people are interested in what he gets up to, despite the fact that he doesn’t really do anything. He is someone who is famous simply for being famous, Patroclus muses. Unfortunately though, he is exactly the kind of person Odysseus would expect him to get close to. Patroclus sighed and downed what was left of his drink, resigning himself to crossing the room, when a flash of movement caught his eye. Helen had dropped her glass on the floor in the middle of the dancers and was running out the side door, which led to the garden. Briseis gave a small shout of surprise and followed her. Patroclus quickly made his way through the crowd and out the door, just in time to see a dark green dress heading up a side path that led into the forest. Patroclus sighed and chased after Briseis, giving up any hope of making Odysseus proud of him tonight. 

Patroclus pushed further into the forest, trying to keep Briseis in sight. It was starting to rain lightly, but Patroclus could sense that a storm was on its way. He cursed as he slipped on one of the girls abandoned heels, landing heavily in the mud. Briseis heard him and turned around.   
“What are you doing?” She screamed over the rising noise of the wind. 

“Helping you.” He yelled back pushing himself up from where he had fallen. 

“Hurry up then. I can still see her.” The storm was intensifying, with lightning flashing all around. Occasionally Patroclus caught sight of Helen, but mainly his attention was focused on the back of Briseis' head. They both screamed at Helen to stop, but she showed no signs of hearing them. All Patroclus could focus on was the path in front of him, so that he didn’t slip again. Branch. Rock. Hole. Branch. His concentration was broken by a scream up ahead. He raised his gaze to see the look of horror on Briseis' face as she looked down over the cliff in front of her. Patroclus stopped beside her, bracing himself for what he was about to see. There, on a ledge around two meters below them was Helen, her arm was bent at an unnatural angle but at least alive.   
“We’re coming down!” Briseis yelled. 

“We are?” Patroclus, who wasn’t the best with heights, wanted to help – but he couldn’t see how they were going to scale a cliff in a storm. “Why don’t you wait here and keep her talking. I’ll run back to the party and…”

“No! That will take too long.” Briseis interjected. “We just need to help her back up and then we can walk back together. It’s stupid to split up.” Patroclus wasn’t convinced and Briseis could tell. “You do what you want, but I’m going down to help.”

“Wait!” Patroclus yelled, slipping his shoes and socks off. “I’ll help.” It was stupid, but if there was anyone he was willing to be stupid for in this life it was Briseis. Plus, she was never going to be able to carry Helen up by herself. 

“Okay.” Briseis had taken charge. “You climb down first. It’s only a couple of meters, I’ll follow. We can use your shirt as a sling.” Patroclus nodded, not quite sure how he felt about taking his shirt off. He swallowed his fear and slowly climbed down the rockface. The rock was slippery, and his arms and legs were shaking. He knew he was moving really slowly, but frankly he was terrified. Looking up briefly he saw Briseis begin to climb after him, following in his footsteps. Below, Helen was shouting up advice, which Patroclus was trying to block out so he could concentrate. Then suddenly he heard scrambling from above. A tangle of limbs knocked into him. He didn’t have far to fall, but he landed awkwardly on his shoulder. Pain shot through Patroclus, but worse still was the feeling of a leg tangled with his own snapping under his weight. Briseis screamed in pain. Helen hovered awkwardly not sure how to help, as Patroclus gently wriggled away from Briseis.   
“Shit. Okay. Don’t look Bri.” Helen said, looking in horror at her friends’ limb. Briseis groaned. 

“We need to sit her up against the rock.” Patroclus said to Helen. How they were going to do that with two good arms between them he wasn’t quite sure. 

“The ledge isn’t bloody big enough.” Briseis wheezed. “I’ll do it myself.” She was right of course. There was barely enough room for the three of them to sit on the ledge, and Patroclus didn’t want to think about the drop below. A short while later, and a lot of groaning, saw the three of them huddled against the rockface, the storm intensifying around them. 

“Does anyone have a phone?” Helen asked quietly. Patroclus reached into his pocket, only to find his screen had been smashed when they fell, making it useless. 

“Mine’s back at the hotel.” Briseis grunted. 

“We can try screaming?” Patroclus suggested. Seeing as it was dark, storming, and no one knew where they were it seemed pointless, but was also their only option. 

“No one is going to hear us over the wind.” Helen replied. 

“So we just do nothing?” 

“My mother always said things would look better in the morning.” Helen said. Briseis scoffed. 

“I don’t think she was talking about being stuck at the bottom of a cliff with two broken arms and one broken leg!” Helen looked hurt. 

“I don’t think we have any choice.” Patroclus interjected. “We can’t do anything while it’s dark, and the storm feels like it is beginning to calm a bit.” That was more wishful thinking than anything else on his part. “So, I guess we are stuck here until the morning. Hopefully someone at the party realises you are missing and raises the alarm.”

“Why on earth did you run off anyway.” Briseis grumbled. Helen looked down at her feet. 

“I was feeling trapped, alright?” Briseis huffed. 

“Sure, because your far less trapped here on this ledge.” Helen looked like she was going to start sobbing. 

“I know it’s stupid, but we were so young when we met and…”

“Shh.” Patroclus hushed her. “Do you hear that? It sounds like a helicopter.” Helen looked affronted to be cut off in the middle of her disclosure. 

“I think your delusional.” Briseis grumbled. No sooner had she got the words out however, when a light came into view. Patroclus shimmied himself up. Not caring how it jostled his shoulder he started waving madly.

“Hey! Over here!” It was definitely a helicopter and it was coming closer. It stopped hovering just above where they were trapped, and Patroclus could make out two figures dressed in black being lowered towards them. One of them stopped just in front of Patroclus. Even through it was dark he could make out blond curls escaping from under the black helmet. The man spoke calmly but with authority. 

“I’m Achilles from the national rescue service. This is Diomedes, and we are here to help.” 

Patroclus knew he should be more worried about his injury, or being trapped on a ledge in the middle of a forest in the dark, but at this moment all he could think of was the look on Odysseus’ face when he told him that he had found his ‘in’.


End file.
